Gauntlet: Diaspora
by Cap'n Chryssalid
Summary: Completed Rowdyruff and Powerpuff alike reel from the sudden turn in events; they fight both against their inner demons, and those from without, as things fall towards an uncertain end. Sequel to Gauntlet: Pain
1. Default Chapter

Like a good communist, I own nothing.

* * *

"Gauntlet: Diaspora"  
Part 1

* * *

June 11

The funeral, if you could call it that, had been a somber affair. It was not the first that Blossom had been to - there had been a service for Bunny, after her short, tragic life ended, too soon. This occasion, however, was the first where there was a body. She looked around, and distantly noticed the deconstruction and demolishing that was underway, but had been momentarily suspended.

She, like her sisters, had worn their only black clothes: identical dresses that the Professor had tailor-made.

It was, in a way, two funerals in one and it seemed no one would miss either of the deceased. Mojo had been cremated, and his remains scattered over what had, apparently, been his homeland, in Central Africa. He had left a Will, and the actual funeral had been paid for by a 'secret organization' called the "International Brotherhood of Anonymous Secular Supervillians," of whom he had been a member for some time. They had come afterwards and claimed a number of things from Mojo's Laboratories. There had been a halfhearted effort made to prevent so much technology falling into the hands of obvious villains, but it was a legal matter, and there wasn't much they could do that Blossom concerned herself with. They were also the ones who, she learned, had accounted for Mojo's frequently accrued legal fines and paid for his bail when it was set.

Brick, however, had not been around long enough to be a member.

A suited man, either from that group or some sort of government agency, had been present at the Rowdyruff boy's cremation, but said little except a few quick words with the Professor. Boomer and Butch had made it well known that their brother had demanded to be cremated, and his ashes scattered over an open volcano. He had obviously meant the one below Mojo's Observatory. Why it had any significance, she didn't know.

She didn't know a lot of things.

That had never been driven home more than when she looked around, at what had once been Mojo's Observatory. She, of course, had helped him construct it, and now she was watching as the busy and skilled wrecking crew, natives of the city Mojo had dedicated his life to dominating and destroying, took it apart, piece-by-piece. Much of what remained had been willed to the Rowdyruffs, but the two despondent boys had not returned to the place that had claimed their leader, and their brother.

She and Bubbles were the first to come back.

Buttercup had been... away, and opted not to return either.

Blossom and Bubbles passed by the open area, now covered by a scaffold, where what was left of Brick's body had been emptied into the seething cauldron below. Blossom remembered, with perfect clarity, the spark each tiny mote made when it touched the lava, and the sizzle of it, as the carbon dust disappeared forever. Just cremating the body had required a heat far more intense than the volcano itself produced, but she had made sure to see it done.

Brick would have no monuments to his name.

No plaques to his memory.

He had saved her life, he had spared her life, and he had defended and protected Townsville at the cost of his own. That, however, meant nothing. Already, she knew, he was being forgotten - but she would never forget. And she would feel an equal amount of sorrow for all those who instead felt joy, and relief, at his passing.

"Blossom?"

Blossom blinked, and realized she'd been staring.

"I'm fine..." She lied, but Bubbles didn't press the matter. For this, Blossom was thankful. It wasn't something she felt ready to talk about yet. It wasn't something she even really understood, yet. How could she talk about it?

They walked in silence, and Blossom had to remember to float a bit off the ground, so that her longer than normal black dress wouldn't snag around her ankles. Bubbles didn't seem to have any problems, and she remained graceful and seemingly unaffected by the whole affair. Blossom remembered the last words Bubbles had said to him.

_"You're mean!"_

He was.

He had been mean. Blossom couldn't argue against that. Yet... at the same time, he had done good things. He had been so smart. And a part of him had cared: for his brothers, for the city, a little, and even for her. He had been mean. He had been bad. But he had been good at being bad, and he had never faltered in his actions or ideals.

She still couldn't believe that he was dead.

She still couldn't believe...

It seemed so surreal.

The two sisters parted ways, silently, as they neared the part of the complex that the boys had claimed for themselves. They had never really had a bedroom, like the girls had. Instead, Mojo had given them free reign to cordon off little parts of a back lab for personal effects. Bubbles was here for Butch and Boomer's things, that they had started packing up earlier.

She was here for Brick's.

There was a large empty cardboard box on the ground, stamped with a 'this way up' sign, and a roll of duct tape inside. It seemed awfully small to carry the life and memories of a living person. She looked over what was there, mentally wondering what to keep, and what to leave. Whatever was left behind would be donated to charity, or simply thrown out with the trash.

Brick really didn't have much to start with.

There was a small library, as part of an expensive (probably stolen, she thought with a smile, caught herself, and turned it to a frown) redwood shelf. Some of the books were on their side, no doubt knocked down by the demolitions occurring relatively nearby, that would eventually completely remove the Volcano Observatory from the skyline. She picked up one that caught her eye.

'Latin and the Roman Tradition'

A memory flashed, and for a half second, she thought she was holding her 'Conversational Chinese' book. The instant passed, however, and curiously, she skimmed through the book. It was thick, over five hundred pages, both on speaking the language, writing it, and a few classical pieces for practice reading it. Brick didn't dog-ear, like she did. He instead used a series of bookmarks. It was neat.

Orderly.

Organized.

"Everything in its place." She remembered a saying. "And a place for everything."

Even in this, she supposed, he had to be in control. Even in this, he had to be aware and able to get what he wanted as efficiently as possible. Carefully, she put the book down in the cardboard box, and while she was at it, she took the roll of duct tape out. The other books were telling, in what they said of him.

There were military biographies of great generals and leaders, throughout the centuries, from Khan, Alexander and Hannibal up to Rommel and Macarthur, followed by numerous works on more recent wars in the Middle East. There were books on modern politics; several of Kissinger's works were displayed prominently. Philosophy: both classical (Plato and Sun Tzu), intellectual (Kant and Thomas Aquinas) and contemporary (Huntington and Fukuyama)... One thing occurred to her.

Brick had no toys.

There was a space that looked like it once had a computer, or at least a television, but it was empty. Likely, it had been stolen, or 'appropriated.' There were a few compact disks in a drawer, all classical music of several operatic scores. She gathered them up and put them aside. Pushing aside a brown screen on the main part of the shelf, she revealed a smaller area, normally hidden from view. Inside were several small wooden figurines, intricately made, and scorched slightly a shade of dark brown. Picking one up, carefully, she felt the texture in her hands.

"Brick made these..." She realized, with a start. He must have used his eye beams - he always had such perfect control with them. Power was something Brick had never lacked, but he had always reveled in control. He had carved them; she could still feel, almost, a little residual heat on their surface. She looked down at it, closely. It was a miniature of himself, standing, with his arms behind his back. The eyes were a slightly darker shade than the rest, and conveyed a measure of sadness, along with authority and dignity.

She held it close to her, and closed her eyes.

She willed the tears not to come, she willed the guilt to go away, she pleaded for the burden to pass to someone else... but it would not. So the tears came, and for a few terrible minutes, she stood there and cried, silently. Her control slowly returned, and she wiped her face, clearing her eyes. There were several of the little statuettes.

She saw one of Butch, on a pedestal, looking confident and self-assured. She saw Boomer, alighting on what appeared to be a rooftop, with his usual easy grace. What she saw next shocked her. There was a figurine of her, in a cut away of what had, long ago, been her cell. She was looking down, contemplating her doom, and wallowing in self-pity. Yet the 'roof' was open, and there was no door. Finally, there was one of the three girls, all of them standing on what looked like the body of some sort of monster. Bubbles was cringing a little, and her hair looked droopy and wet.

It was the beginning of that first fight they'd had.

Looking at it closely, she did notice that this woodcarving did seem a bit rougher, a bit sharper at the edges and less polished in finish, than the others. It had, maybe, been his first. Lastly, all alone in the back, there was an unfinished block of wood, with a rough figure cut into it, and a few marker lines drawn to indicate future approaches and carving points. It was impossible to really see what he had been planning with it.

Had it been her?

_"Non omnia moriar."_

His last words: burned into her mind.

Attached to the back of wood was a small piece of paper, folded in half and taped in place. There was a long passage of what looked like Latin, and then and there, she vowed to translate it when she got home. Heart heavy, Blossom packed away the books. The carvings, she would carry separately. She would not risk them being broken or ruined. The people of Townsville may forget about Brick, there may be no monuments or recordings of all he did... but she would remember. She would keep what was left of him, and she would never forget.

* * *

It was cold.

It was dry.

Simply put, Princess Morebucks didn't like the mountains. Of course, Princess Morebucks didn't like a great number of things. She didn't like having to work to gain other peoples' respect, and didn't like being kept in the dark, and she didn't like being upstaged by others. This was just the tip of the iceberg, but these three particular peeves were currently at the forefront of her mind.

She knew that she was going out on a limb, however, and was willing to take some small measure of discomfort and even annoyance in light of the situation. After their Old House had been destroyed at the hands of the Rowdyruffs, her father had finally had driven home the problems that came from associating with Mojo Jojo and his ilk. Her father was a busy man, and a businessman, first and foremost.

When he called her little 'involvement' with the local Townsville villains 'unprofitable...' That was when she knew she was in trouble. Her criminal record was bad enough, and could be erased with enough money slipped into the right hands, but the actual destruction of Morebucks property, and especially the house her father had been born and raised in, was unforgivable.

She had barely convinced him to give her one last chance.

For revenge.

First on the boys, and then on the girls.

Hence why she was in the mountains, training with her newest associates, freezing her butt off. They had been planning on waiting another month before moving to Townsville itself, but when news came that both Mojo Jojo and the leader of the Rowdyruff Boys had died in the latest monster attack, their chances had improved dramatically.

For once, she was doing her homework.

The boys and girls had been devastated by the loss, both in terms of leadership, ruthlessness, and unity. Princess smiled broadly as she remembered what she had heard of them. Of all they were going through.

"Hey!!"

"What's up, sweetcheeks?"

"Shut up, both of you! Can't you two work together for ten minutes without this happening?"

Princess sighed, drawn out of pleasant memories by harsh reality. She watched as the group's official leader, appointed by her father himself, tried to separate the other two members of the team. Burnsday had been a champion of the Powerpuff Girls, or at least he had called himself one. Princess, however, knew an opportunist when she saw one.

It was little surprise that, out of the small number of men and women that Professor Utonium had outfitted in the times when it looked like the Powerpuff Girls had been killed, only Burnsday survived. The rest had been hospitalized after their run-ins with the Rowdyruffs. Most had ended up paralyzed. Burnsday, however, had ran up against Brick himself, and escaped mainly intact. She knew little of his actual credentials, except for occasional references to 'jobs' he had in Southeast Asia and Central and South America.

He had a new and superior suit of Powered Armor: an amalgam of Utonium, Morebucks, and Mojo's technologies. Though larger, and built to his frame, it was nearly identical to her own, which she had repainted in platinum and silver. The only difference was that Burnsday also used small amounts of Chemical X, injected into his bloodstream, which made him physically faster, stronger, and tougher. Her role was as support, and oversight. Burnsday's loyalties ran to her father, and Princess had little doubt that when push came to shove he'd be equally amicable to removing the Powerpuff Girls along with their Rowdyruff counterparts.

Still, even with him, they could not hope to defeat their enemies.

"You back off, pal! I am warning you!"

"Sure thing, babe! Sure thing!"

That was where the other half of the team came from. One of them she had recognized instantly, from his brief stint as a superhero in Townsville. The unnaturally large frame, jutting chin, and heavily oiled crop of hair belonged to one 'Major Man,' though he had been contracted under the alias 'Rod McShaft' ... apparently he'd gotten into the porn industry after the superhero thing failed. When approached about being a supervillian, he had been cautious at first. Then promise of Chemical X, and more power, however, had drawn him in, hook line and sinker.

Of course, they couldn't afford to waste their limited supply of Chemical X on a relatively bit player like 'The Artist Formerly Known as Major Man,' and there had been a fair amount of the failed synthetic available, so... Still, the results had been mostly positive. His strength and toughness were greatly magnified. If his intelligence and memory suffered, well, that was a risk she was willing to take. Especially with Mojo being gone, and there being no real hope of getting more pure Chemical X.

"Will you two maggots calm down?!" Burnsday snarled, angry.

"Babe?! I told you not to call me that, you fat American pig!!" A loud female voice grated. She was an Asian woman, in a formfitting lightning-themed black and red costume.

The Artist Formerly Known as Major Man was taken aback. "What did you call me?!"

"A fat pig, you retard!"

The last part of their group had been an import, of sorts. They needed a speedster, and who better than the arch enemy of Japan's resident superhero 'E-Male?' Especially with the recession in that country, it proved a simple matter to convince 'Hate-Male' to take a quick job in America, where she could improve her English, earn some money, see more of the world, and learn to hate men of all races and creeds equally.

"All right! That's enough! Both of you; hit the showers!" Burnsday roared. "GO!!"

Hate-Male snorted at him, but didn't cross the man. Burnsday tended to drive his points home by shooting people in the hands and feet, which was something she had learned the first day she had arrived and dismissed his orders. The two headed back to the mountain retreat arguing and hitting each other (well, Hate-Male was hitting TAFNAMM anyway).

Princess sighed at the embarrassing display.

They weren't exactly a 'well oiled fighting unit' yet, but everyone except herself was expendable anyway. That, and from what she'd heard, Townsville wasn't exactly very attractive for supervilliany in general. Frankly, no one wanted to get near the place. Princess found herself not really wanting to return either...

But she had to follow through.

She had made the mess, starting with aggravating the Powerpuffs, and then trying to bully Mojo. This time, finally, her father wanted her to clean up after herself. Adjusting her helmet, she took aim at the targets down range, and kept practicing.

There wouldn't be any more chances after this.

* * *

Harris Daner was a citizen of Townsville. He was a respected accountant, and normally, he enjoyed his job. Normally. Lately, however, things hadn't been particularly positive in Mr. Daner's life. Aside from the latest monster attacks, which weren't that unusual for the people of Townsville, life had recently just seemed... empty.

He drove to work, he worked with some pointless numbers, and he headed home to two squealing little rug rats and an idiotic wife. The house seemed too small, much too small, for them all. Worse, whenever he came home, everyone ran up to him wanting things. Wanting toys, wanting money, wanting food...!

He headed for his car; head low, and avoided eye contact with the other people of the city. The last thing he needed to see was another vacantly smiling face. He saw his car, smiled a little, and opened the door with a sigh of relief. Plopping down on the driver's seat, he ran a hand through what was left his hair. As if things in his life weren't bad enough, he was balding.

"Hey!" Another Townsville resident tapped on his window. This man was younger: around twenty-two, well built and wearing an expensive suit. He had a full head of hair. Nearby, his girlfriend - a busty brunette - looked on in amusement.

"HEY!" The younger man yelled again, and pointed to the car Mr. Daner had parked next to in the parking garage. For the first time, Harris noticed that he had dinged the other man's red sports car when he opened the door to his family wagon. Oddly, the thought made him smile.

"You screwed up my car!" The younger man kicked the old Daner station wagon, and gritting his teeth pointed at the older man. "You wait right there, you smiling piece of horse shit! I'll fix your ass good!"

Mr. Daner was still smiling, up to and until the younger man opened the trunk of his car, and took out his car iron. As his girlfriend cheered, the man lifted the de-facto weapon like a club. With an angry snarl, the younger man smashed in the back window of Harris Daner's wagon. Cursing, fumbling to start up his car, Mr. Daner hit it in reverse, and the other man just barely jumped out of the way and avoiding being hit.

Turning quickly to drive away from the scene, Mr. Daner paused.

Looking at the other man, with his full head of hair, with his expensive suit, and expensive car, and beautiful woman... Distantly, Mr. Daner switched from reverse to drive, and floored the accelerator. The younger man's eyes widened in surprise then sudden fear and rage a second before Mr. Daner's station wagon hit him, crushing him between the side of his own Porsche and the hood of Harris' car.

The woman started to scream.

And Harris Daner... accountant... family man... laughed. Opening the door and stepping out of his vehicle, he reached over to the body on the front of his car, and pried the car iron from the other's man's limp fingers. The pretty brunette screamed and tried to run away, but with a surprisingly accurate aim, Mr. Daner nailed her in the back with the heavy metal tool-turned-weapon. She spun, tripped on her high heels, and fell to the ground, scraping her leg and arm.

"I've got you now, you little bitch..." He paused, reached down and picked up the trusty car iron. The woman stumbled through her purse, and pulled out a small case of pepper spray. She started spraying wildly, not thinking, but Mr. Daner shielded his eyes and kept out of range, laughing.

He didn't laugh when a fist snapped his head around.

He didn't even see it coming.

He just hit the ground, unconscious. The car iron fell out of his hands, and hit the ground with a clang, below Butch's feet. The green Rowdyruff looked over his shoulder at the woman, who had gone back to screaming, this time at him, and spraying her pepper spray indiscriminately. Butch's face was a scowl, and with a tiny breath, he blew what was left of the airborne irritant back into her face.

"Worthless." He snarled, at the world in general. In front of him, the woman howled madly, and started rolling around; rubbing her eyes and face. Without giving the scene a second thought, Butch took off.

* * *

The flight home, that night, had been an exercise in silence.

After dropping things off at home, Blossom and Bubbles had given the city a quick look over, before heading out to get Buttercup. Things had gotten worse over the last few days, and crime was on the rise. It seemed that Brick's death had emboldened a large number of people... or maybe it was Mojo's death that left a vacuum that needed to be filled. It was likely a combination of the two, Blossom suspected.

In one quick pass, they had broken up two fistfights, and an attempted robbery that looked about to turn into attempted manslaughter. It reminded her of last summer, when the record high heat, unemployment and mismanaged government bankruptcy had nearly led to riots. Then, when everything looked about to explode, Fuzzy Lumpkins crashed the party, even crankier than usual. At least it had lightened the mood a bit.

Everyone expected Fuzzy to act like that.

It seemed to snap most people out of a sort of heat-induced stupor. Things were back to near normal soon after, but Blossom doubted anything like that would help now. That one incident had always stuck out in her memory. The people of Townsville were normally a happy, helping, caring bunch, aside from all the criminals, of course. Still, at their heart, they were a mob. Worse: a stupid mob.

Butch, however, likely didn't see things her way.

Not anymore.

She'd heard about some of his little exploits on the news. Just days before, after the tragedy, the green Rowdyruff had woken up screaming his brother's name; remembering everything that had happened hadn't been healthy for him. He'd gone on a rampage for all of a few seconds, before something in him just... stopped. He hit the streets, now, hard. Every day. His vicious streak had magnified, but he hadn't crossed the big moral line yet. Truthfully, she was afraid to confront him about it.

What could she tell him?

To calm down?

Not to blame himself?

That was likely what Buttercup heard. The raven haired Powerpuff Girl had always been tough, always been a fighter, and always had somewhat of a vicious streak of her own. Maybe it was the exhaustion she had to fight through when she woke up, maybe there was a deeply rooted soft spot in her that had finally been touched. They didn't really realize something was wrong until she started acting weird.

Sometimes, they learned, she would see his face in a crowd, and so she would bolt off to see for herself, and it was someone else... or no one at all. She said she heard him sometimes. She said she thought everyone knew what she was... even strangers on the street. The first night, she couldn't sleep. Two nights later, she thought his ghost was in the room. The guilt had been eating Buttercup alive.

But, how could it not?

She had murdered someone.

Two, actually.

It wasn't like before, when they had blown the boys up in an almost innocent way, and hadn't known them. It hadn't even been their intention, and afterwards, they had been told that the boys would have eventually deconstructed anyway (a little white lie, she now suspected). This situation was wholly different. In her blind power lust, Butch/Buttercup had fractured Brick's rib cage, broken his lower back, and finally nearly choked him to death. Her intentions hadn't been just to defeat him, or to drive him away, but to murder him in cold blood. He had finally died, Blossom had learned, of extensive and irreparable internal bleeding. Buttercup had his blood on her hands.

His and Mojo's.

Blossom's brunette sister spent hours, sometimes, in the bathtub, trying to 'get the smell of blood off.' It was all in her mind, of course. Naturally, Blossom felt for her sister, yet a tiny part of her blamed Buttercup (and Butch) for what had happened. At that thought, Blossom always felt deep shame.

It hadn't been Buttercup's fault.

She hadn't been herself; she probably hadn't even been sane. The merging with Butch had greatly increased their love of power as much as their power itself. No: Blossom set her thoughts in stone. It hadn't been Buttercup's, or even Butch's, fault. Not in any way.

Mojo.

It was Mojo who had been responsible.

It was Mojo who had manipulated the situation to betray his own child. Blossom remembered, like it was just yesterday, when she had seen Brick's face, with a tiny scar that hadn't been there before. She had learned to picture his face in perfect detail - she could probably draw it perfectly with her eyes closed - so, of course she had noticed the small mark when she had returned to help defeat the spherical monster that was threatening the world.

She had known that he'd been struck, and that Brick would only allow Mojo to do it. No one else. Later, she had seen when Mojo had lost his temper, in the Robo Jojo, and again struck his 'son.' She tried to talk to him about it, she wanted so badly to do something about it but couldn't.

He didn't trust her enough.

Not enough to open himself to her.

Not enough to admit it hurt him.

Blossom's anger rose, directed solely at the new deceased Mojo Jojo. The Powerpuff's old enemy had done much to earn her anger, and the anger of others, but this... this she could never forgive him for. Brick and his brothers needed a father, they needed a family, and they needed love. How would she and her sisters have turned out in similar circumstances?

"So, Buttercup..." Bubbles said, breaking the silence.

"What?" Buttercup growled, surly and embarrassed. She had been seeing a therapist for several days. She'd stopped saying that she saw the red Rowdyruff in large crowds of people, and stopped claiming that she smelt like blood, but both Buttercup's sisters suspected she was just being defensive. The fact remained that Butch and Buttercup didn't talk to each other anymore.

Bubbles hadn't laughed in days.

Everything was falling apart.

They landed at home. Boomer was standing on the front step, waiting for them. He and Butch had moved in with the Mayor and his wife, temporarily. The Professor had offered them the opportunity to stay with the Girls, but they had politely declined. Boomer and Butch still came over, sometimes, though lately it had only been Boomer. In a way, they were the family he'd always wanted. They were, at that point in time, probably the only things keeping him from losing his grip on reality completely.

Bubbles landed next to him, and reached out.

He took her hand, and they walked inside.

Boomer didn't say much. He'd hardly spoken a word since Brick died, and never as loudly or boisterously as before. When he was around the Girls, he followed Bubbles around and the two of them stuck together like glue. Bubbles spoke for him most of the time. She was a sort of security blanket, Blossom supposed, for the blue Rowdyruff. Blossom heart went out to the boy.

She missed his jokes.

She missed hearing his voice.

She even missed him calling her 'Red.'

Boomer and Bubbles went straight to the table, to wait for dinner to be finished. Buttercup and Blossom went upstairs, and separated when they got into their room. As Blossom had suspected, Buttercup went to the bathroom, and in a second, the sound of running water was clear as crystal, even after the door loudly closed shut. Blossom ignored it for the moment, knowing there was nothing she could do: feeling helpless, and looked instead at the box of belongings next to her side of the bed. On the dresser, she had already put up the little wooden figurines.

She'd also taken out one of the books.

After translating the first two lines on the piece of paper she'd found, Blossom immediately know what it was: an old poem by William Butler Yates. Still, she took the time to check, and worked through the words and phrasing. With some time to kill, she jumped onto the bed, and went to work on what she hadn't gotten to earlier.

Turning and tuning in widening gyre  
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;  
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;  
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,  
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere  
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;  
The best lack all conviction, while the worst  
Are possessed of a passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;  
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.  
The Second Coming! Hardly are the words out  
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi  
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert  
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,  
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,  
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it  
Reel shadows of indignant desert birds.  
The darkness drops again; but now I know  
That twenty centuries of stony sleep  
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle.  
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last  
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Yet, as she translated, Blossom saw that there was a small mistake. And another. Two tiny errors. A part of the last two lines were incorrectly translated. It was uncharacteristic of Brick, the total perfectionist that he was. She went over the lines again. This minor change was deliberate. Blossom was sure of it. But what did the change signify? What did it mean?

And what a crude quintessence, its hour come round at last  
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born!


	2. Gauntlet: Diaspora part 2

My deepest and most sincere thanks to all those who wrote reviews. Comments and Criticism are the lifeblood of any author, and so long as my stories are being read, and someone is deriving enjoyment from them, then that lone driving force plunges me ever forward. Keep them coming! I read and savor every one without exception!

* * *

Like a good communist, I own nothing.

* * *

"Gauntlet: Diaspora"  
Part 2

* * *

June 13

_"Sporadic fighting continued in the region of Kashmir, as, for the second time in as many days, attempts at cease fire negotiations broke down..."_

"I'd like to talk to you. Are you there?"

A soft voice: not comforting, but at least constant, replied. "I'm here."

"I knew I could count on you... you were always there..."

"Always there, Bubbles..."

"Another of them is going to be here soon. It's going to happen like I told you. Why can't I stop it? Please... tell me I'm doing the right thing... I need to hear I'm doing the right thing..."

"You are doing the right thing, Bubbles. You are a good girl."

Bubbles sighed, but smiled. "Thank you, Octi."

"Anytime, my angel."

"Do you think I'll see anything tonight?"

"Do you want to...?"

"No." Bubbles shook her head, and her blonde pigtails bobbled back and forth. "No! I had such a bad dream last night! I don't want another. Everyone was dead! The light..."

"The light is your enemy Bubbles. It deceives you."

"But..."

"Bubbles, I want to help you. I know you want to be in the light. I know you don't want it to be dark. But you must be strong. You must be strong for Buttercup, and Blossom and Butch and Boomer... You're a good girl. A good girl."

"Everything is so bad outside..."

"Sssh." Octi whispered, and she hugged him to her tightly. The plush toy in her arms brought her a relaxation and calm that she hadn't felt all day. Everything was so dark, even the crack in the door didn't help ease her fears. Even the Professor's warm smile, and soothing voice... no: only the plush toy in her arms held the demons and dreams at bay.

She was a good girl.

She was strong.

Inching under the covers, she closed her eyes, tried to fall sleep, and saw the light.

_"Reports of renewed violence continued to mar any attempt at a mid east settlement, as, in Israel, the West Bank again became a war zone..."_

Bonk!

On the television screen, there was a great flash of light. Lasting only an instant, it faded, as two characters parted: one jumping away from the other. A small number floated up into the air, and the still standing character fell into a crouch, and faded out into the background.

Bonk!

"Hey... you're doing really well." Blossom complimented, watching the game in between chapters to her book. It was one of the ones that -he- used to own. Certain parts were still indexed, and she'd hoped that looking through the book would help give her greater insight into him.

"Thanks." Boomer answered, softly.

"I mean it. I've never seen anyone fly through the game so fast."

Boomer didn't reply.

Blossom sighed, and went back to reading. She'd meant what she'd said. Granted, she really hadn't seen anyone else except Bubbles and Buttercup try their hand at "Puppet Pals: Endless Waltz," but from what she saw, she was impressed. The Mayor had a large cache of games for numerous gaming systems, everything from Nintendo to Playstation Two, and the Puppet Pals' Action/Adventure game was supposedly one of the hardest.

It was just that...

Boomer didn't really seem to be enjoying himself.

She'd hoped a bit of praise would help boost his spirits, but he was still in a depressed funk. Only Bubbles seemed able to have much effect on the once loud and outspoken Rowdyruff Boy, and to tell the truth, Blossom was starting to feel... useless. Sure, there was the effort of trying to keep everyone together and working, there was the responsibility she held towards the city she was slowly starting to dislike, and there were the chores she had to do. But nothing seemed to have much meaning.

Looking at Boomer, she silently cursed.

"Damn Brick for dying." Her mind hissed. "Damn him for saving me... for leaving me..."

It was a familiar chorus.

Useless.

Incompetent.

Unfit.

She shook her head, and cleared her thoughts. She wouldn't allow herself to go down that road again. Useless? No: She had proved that enough times. Without her, they never would have survived the massive, deformed spider monster... Incompetent? No: Her actions spoke well enough. Sure, there had been failures. Sure, there had been setbacks. Her track record, however, spoke volumes, and she NEVER gave up. Unfit? Maybe, once, when her self-pity had paralyzed her. In the end, however, even Brick had accorded her a gudgeoning respect.

He'd never said as much, but she felt it deep in the depths of her soul that he did. Her confidence bolstered, Blossom closed the book she had been reading, and made a decision. It was time to put her house in order.

"Boomer?" She turned to him, voice stronger.

"What?" He asked, quietly, expressive blue eyes leaving the screen.

"Boomer..." Blossom slowly smiled. It felt like ages since she'd smiled. He blinked at her, not understanding. Scooting over, next to him, she reached out and hugged him. At first, he was as tense and stiff as a board, but slowly, she felt his head rest on her shoulder. Tentatively, afraid of showing weakness, afraid of risking rejection, he returned the hug.

"Listen..." She took a deep breath, and said what she felt. It was harder than she thought it would be, but the warm confidence from deep within galvanized her. Moved her. "Boomer... I love you... we all do. I... I just want you to know that."

He didn't say anything.

Instead, Blossom heard what sounded like muffled hiccups. Boomer's embrace became desperate, like the grip of a drowning man on a life preserver. He didn't need words. She knew the feeling was mutual, and she knew that she needed to feel loved as much as he did. He wasn't alone.

"T... thanks... Red," Boomer said, still softly, but with a tiny touch more energy, a small bit more spirit. "Thanks..."

He wasn't alone.

He had Bubbles.

And he had her.

Even Buttercup, though the green Powerpuff would never admit it.

They had been enemies, but that was a lifetime ago.

They were family.

Together, they would survive anything.

* * *

_"In what is being called the Second Tiananmen Square Massacre, a large body of student protesters in Beijing, many sporting anti-party slogans, were fired on as they marched on Mao's Tomb..."_

June 14

"Time to wake up, Master Butch!"

The butler checked under the covers of a large, ample bed, but as expected, didn't see its occupant. The man sighed, and looked around the room in silent irritation. It was one of the guestrooms in Townsville Mansion - the residence of the Mayor. Charles Wellson had worked there nearly his entire life, after his family moved from England. The Mayor generally left the house early and often, leaving his wife in charge, which suited Charles perfectly.

The Mayor was a fickle and foolish fellow, but he had a good heart, and it was never much of a hassle taking care of the Mansion in his absence. The groundskeepers and the house staff went about their business with little distraction or problem, even from the lady of the house. Even the monsters that frequently attacked the city normally overlooked the Mayor's House. The only disturbance in recent memory had been when an uncouth fellow named 'Fuzzy Lumpkins' had held the title of Mayor, but that hadn't been for a very long period of time.

Fortunately.

"Master Butch! Are you awake?" Charles gave up looking. "Are you even hearing me?"

Recently, however, a new disturbance had entered the house. The Mayor had never had any children, or even adopted, so their presence had never been an issue in the past. This had been the way of things until two young boys, the surviving two Rowdyruffs, who had once held the city in a grip of terror (a slight exaggeration), were taken in as wards.

The more introverted of the two was never a problem.

Boomer was a well-behaved boy who did what he was asked, and usually left the house for long periods of time. When he was there, he was quiet and almost invisible, preferring to play a video game quietly by himself. His brother Butch, on the other hand, was more than a handful.

A crash came from the adjoining bathroom.

"Master Butch?"

"I'm fine! Get lost!!"

Charles frowned, knowing what had happened. "Master Butch, breakfast is served. The Lady of the house requests your presence at the table."

There was silence that seemed like an answer to the negative.

"Fine." Butch answered, gruffly. "Gimme a second."

Behind the door, water started to run. After a little over a minute, the water stopped, and the door opened. Butch floated out, wearing fighting tape around his hands and arms, and Charles could see that, inside the bathroom, the mirror had been broken. Again.

"I tripped."

Butch had noticed that Charles had seen what had happened inside, and gave his usual excuse. The boy was a mess - his hair was uncombed, and wild... he obviously hadn't bathed or showered in days. At least he was changed, and wearing his usual outfit. Unfortunately, his black and green shirt was wrinkled and splotched by splashes of dry blood. It desperately needed cleaning, but Charles had learned that Butch pretty much never changed out of his clothes.

"Of course, Master Butch." The butler inclined his head. Butch snorted loudly and walked out of the bedroom. The green Rowdyruff floated down the winding staircase, and into the dining room, past two waiting women in maid's outfits. He brushed them off when they approached him, and he sat at the table.

Boomer was there... recently, the blue Rowdyruff had looked very pale, but there was a bit more color to him today. He was eating, too, which was always a good sign. Butch grunted a small greeting to his brother, and without so much of a glance to the elderly woman who was their host; he started to eat whatever was put in front of him. He didn't taste it; he just shoveled it down.

Fuel for the fire.

Nothing more.

"How did you sleep, Butch? Well, I hope?" The elderly Mrs. Mayor asked, politely, from near the head of the table. The Mayor had already left, and his seat was empty. His dishes were untouched. He'd probably picked up some fast food on the way to his office.

Butch didn't answer.

"I slept well." Boomer said, after a pause.

"I'm glad to hear that, Boomer." Mrs. Mayor smiled vacantly.

Butch dropped his fork and stood up on his chair. "Done. I'm outta here."

"All right, have..." Before Mrs. Mayor could finish her sentence, Butch was heading for the door. "...Fun."

"Wait a second, man!" Boomer jumped out of his seat, and chased down his brother. "Butch! Wait up!"

"What... is it?" Butch pivoted, eyes slightly narrowed, obviously more than a bit annoyed.

"Blossom wanted me to take you over to see her."

"Issatso?" Butch spat, dismissively.

"Yeah." Boomer wasn't really used to this sort of situation, and shied back a bit when his angry brunette brother looked at him sourly. "I... kinda gave my word you'd be there, man."

Butch's scowl grew worse at that. A Rowdyruff's word was his bond. It was part of the unspoken code that they followed. There was loyalty, to each other, and to those they 'owed.' There was pride, in their work and in themselves, and then there was honor. If Boomer gave his word on it, Butch had little choice but to follow through.

"Yeah. Yeah. Let's gets this over with." It still pissed him off, however.

Butch crossed his arms, and the two Rowdyruff's floated out of Mayor's Manor, and into the sky. They never passed over the city itself, but instead flew low and fast over the sprawling suburbs. Butch had noticed, in the city proper, an increase in violent crime, and the sheer numbers of scum that crawled out of their holes to stalk the night. It suited him just fine.

It just meant ten or twelve more skulls to crack.

They circled the drab little home of the Powerpuff Girls, twice, before coming in for a landing. The thought of smashing through one of the windows came to Butch, but he dismissed it just as quickly. He wasn't particularly in the mood to deal with the consequences of such a thing, and while he couldn't care less what the girls thought of him, the last thing he was interested in at the moment was an argument or a feud.

Far better to show up, get this thing done, and leave.

They landed on soft grass, on a well cared for lawn, facing a pleasant little garden framing the steps to the door. It made Butch want to puke. But he waited, not vomiting, for Boomer to ring the doorbell, and then stand around for a few seconds. Butch waited, still not spilling it, as Blossom answered the door, and after exchanging quick greetings with Boomer, let the two boys in and escorted them through the house into the backyard. The mere sight of Blossom's stupid pink bow, well combed hair, and almost enthusiastic step in her walk made him want to snarl.

She'd gotten over things quickly.

Typical.

The pink puff's two sisters were waiting for them at the back door, and together, they went outside. It was a pretty typical back yard, with a few girly things strewn about. There was a football, too - Buttercup's, Butch knew. At the thought of her, Butch's frown was cast in iron

"You're probably wondering why I wanted to see you two." Blossom got right to the point.

That was fine with Butch.

"By your silence, I'll take that as a yes." Blossom coughed, and cleared her throat. "I don't believe our monster problems are over just yet. While I may be wrong... I don't believe we can take that chance. So I brought everyone together so we can talk about our abilities, and get to work better as a... team."

The 't' word!

Butch's mind seethed.

This upstart Powerpuff had some nerve!

"Consider this a sort of reintroduction to each other. A fresh start." Blossom smiled. Bubbles and Buttercup followed, more hesitantly. Butch saw that Boomer was at least partially amicable to the situation, as well. Butch was still frowning.

"I'll go first; follow my example." Blossom continued. "I'm Blossom - I come up with plans and things like that. I developed my special ability almost a year ago... As you know, it's Ice Breath. I've gotten much better at controlling it over the months."

"Boomer." Boomer quickly began where Blossom stopped. "I've got the usual set of stuff, like everyone here. My special power is..." He paused, a bit unsure. He looked to Bubbles, and then decided to keep going. "Invisibility. It doesn't work on cameras and stuff, though."

"What?!" Butch yelped, and looked at his brother curiously. "Invisibility? Since when?"

"A while, man. About three and a half weeks..." Boomer shrugged. "I kind of kept it a secret."

"W..." Butch mouthed the question again, and looked from Boomer to Bubbles. "Did the blonde girl know?"

"I told her a little while ago." Boomer seemed ashamed. Butch knew why - had Brick even known? Surely, he must have, and yet by Boomer's behavior, it looked like he hadn't even told their red ruff leader.

"Shit man..." Butch cursed, unashamedly.

"No cursing!" Blossom yelled, instantly. Butch cringed slightly at the noise, at least until he remembered who was yelling at him and straightened his back defiantly.

"I'm Bubbles!" Bubbles waved pleasantly, trying to defuse the situation. "Um... I can fly very fast... and... stuff. My... I'm not sure I have a special power..."

"What do you mean, you're not sure?" Butch asked.

"Bubbles..." Boomer said, softly. "Come on..."

"I... I see things... sometimes." Bubbles wrung her hands together, shyly. "Dreams n' stuff."

"She saw the monster's we've been fighting," Boomer explained. "At least since when we had her in lockup."

"This is the first I've ever heard of it!" Blossom put her hands on her hips, and faced her blonde sister. Boomer quickly stood next to his counterpart, and took her hand without hesitation.

"She doesn't like talking about it." Boomer was speaking for them, now, in what was a total reversal of what the relationship between the two had been just a day before. Butch looked on suspiciously. His brother was getting too attached to that sissy girl. Was she the reason why Boomer hadn't told anyone else about his special ability?

"It's ok," Bubbles spoke for herself, after a few pregnant seconds. "I didn't think telling anyone would help."

"Geez." Buttercup grumbled. "Well, I still don't have my special power, da... darn it. At least I don't think so."

"I've got mine. I can make myself tougher." Butch's eyes narrowed at Buttercup. These were the first words they'd exchanged in days. "Which means you can probably make yourself stronger or something."

"What makes you think that?" Blossom asked. She didn't like cutting into the conversation, but she had her own theories about the special power Buttercup would eventually develop. A little insight wouldn't hurt. Butch normally didn't say anything, anyway, unless he had a good reason for it. Otherwise he'd end up looking stupid, and that was probably the one thing Butch feared the most.

"Hmf!" Butch crossed his arms tightly and resisted answering. He relented after only a few seconds. "We're two sides of the same coin."

"Huh?" Boomer and Bubbles asked simultaneously.

"I think I see where you're going with that." Blossom scratched her chin. "Brick had some sort of fire ability, and I have ice. Boomer can apparently turn invisible, but he said it doesn't work on cameras... maybe it's like some sort of psionic power. Bubbles seeing stuff that she couldn't is like the opposite of that."

"You sure about that, Red?" Boomer didn't seem to like that description of his ability.

"We could have the Professor run a test to see..."

"No thanks," Boomer quickly said. "I don't think I'd be... comfortable with that."

"Che." Butch sneered. "This is a waste of time! I showed up. I said what you wanted: now I'm outta here!"

"Hey!" Blossom demanded. "I haven't dismissed you yet!"

Butch froze in midair. Slowly, he turned. "Your point... puff?"

Blossom stood her ground. She knew, deep down, that dealing with Butch meant keeping a firm hand. He was naturally very independent, but also very loyal. Butch respected power, and followed those he respected without question, and totally dismissed those he didn't. She had, obviously, yet to earn his respect, and thus, his loyalty. Taking him to fold earlier would be better for everyone involved instead of letting him continue down the dangerous lone road he was currently headed down.

"My point... is that we are having a meeting. And it isn't over yet."

Butch finally smiled. It was a vicious smile. A challenge.

Slowly, he started to laugh.

"I don't take orders from you, girlie. Never did. Never will." Butch let the words seep in. "That get through your thick-as-uranium skull at all?"

Blossom's eyes narrowed, and she silently floated up to his level. Boomer watched, unsure what to do. Bubbles was shaking her head, and her grip on his hand increased dramatically. Next to them, yet some distance away, Buttercup watched with mounting concern. Then, breaking the tension of the moment...

The hotline rang.


	3. Gauntlet: Diaspora part 3

Like a good communist, I own nothing.

* * *

"Gauntlet: Diaspora"  
Part 3

* * *

June 14

**'Interim'**

"We're over the drop zone. Remember. Hit them hard and fast. If you can take them by surprise, we'll be half way to winning this thing."

"I know! Let's just go!" Princess shifted impatiently where she stood, facing the open side of the airplane. The city of Townsville stretched out below them like a sprawling steel and crystal jungle.

"Right." Their leader, a mercenary known by many names, but most frequently as Burnsday, gave the team one last look. 'The Artist Formerly Known as Major Man' was crammed a backseat and hunched over, while the aptly named 'Hate Male' stood nearby, trying to get a tenacious wrinkle out of her form fitting costume.

Snapping his faceplate in place and securing his visor, Burnsday tensed and jumped out of the plane. Within a second, his powered armor fully activated, giving him full flight capability. Princess followed close behind, more than willing to let her teammates to most of the heavy hitting. Next, TAFKAMM squeezed his substantial self out of the plane, and took to the air a little unsteadily. Hate Male just jumped, and landed perfectly on a nearby rooftop.

Her three comrades quickly joined her.

"Scanning the area for targets..." Burnsday concentrated, and his armor's radar system activated, and started actively tracking any nearby contacts. He then visually checked them, and stopped when he encountered one he had been looking for. "Got one: looks like the Blue Rowdyruff. Airborne. No others around."

"Where are the others?" Princess asked. She hadn't seen any of them nearby, on the approach to the city.

"No idea. Hate Male - run recon. But no engagement, do you get me?"

She sneered at him, but nodded. In the blink of an eye, she sped away.

"Good. Major Man..."

"The Artist Formerly Known as Major Man." TAFKAMM corrected.

"Major Man..." Burnsday said again, his growing anger identifiable despite the faceplate he now wore. "You will follow up on my attack. Princess, run a screen pattern."

"Whatever." Princess agreed, but just barely.

As the others went off, and without another word, Burnsday reached behind him and pulled out a large, long, sniper rifle. It was a massive gun, too large for any normal human being to ever wield, and its kick was more than enough to tear a car in half. Burnsday could only fire it became of his armor, and its flight stabilization system, which helped dampen the recoil. As the weapon began to charge up, Burnsday reflected on it with wonder. Just a year ago, he'd never have imagined he'd be in such a position, using such powerful technology. Indeed, if all went well today, he'd take his leave from Morebucks employ with a cache of weapons and money few could hope to match, and enough pure Chemical X to keep him supplied for a lifetime.

With an audible locking ping, the weapon's targeting systems interfaced with those in Burnsday's armor. His sights locked on and magnified on his far off target: the still floating blue Rowdyruff. With a thunderous roar, the weapon finally fired. All along the length of its barrel, super-conducting electromagnets accelerated a sliver of tungsten carbide sheathed in a single mold duranium ramjet case. In less than a half second, the round reached speeds in excess of mach twelve, shed its ramjet mold, and liquefied from the air friction.

The blue Rowdyruff in the distance never even heard what hit him until it had impacted into, and through, him. Burnsday gritted his teeth, and fired two more snap shots in quick succession, before the weapon spat out its spent cooling rod. The figure in blue writhed and spun from the two shots, both of which were perfectly on target, and plummeted to the ground.

"One down." Burnsday lowered the weapon, and reached into the pouch on the side of his waist. Carefully, he removed a fresh cooling rod and slipped it into place so that the gun could be fired again if necessary. Floating into the air, he headed towards where Major Man would be finishing the job.

Miles away, Major Man landed.

Looking down at the body, he nudged it with his foot. He then looked up at where Princess hovered, looking on intently with a mixture of disgust and shock. It gradually occurred to the costumed ex-superhero that the girl probably hadn't ever seen a dead body before.

"AH! Its alive!!" Major Man yelled, loudly.

"What?! He is?!" Princess came closer, her face betraying more than a little hope. She was starting to have second thoughts about what she was getting into.

"HA! Just kiddin!" Major Man gave the lifeless body a small kick, rolling it over so it was face up. There was none of the glory and rush she'd expected to feel. Instead, Princess balked at the sight of the Rowdruff's lifeless azure eyes, and the small pool of blood only made her want to wretch up what little she had eaten earlier.

"Wait..." She mouthed, softly. "Why is the blood white?"

"Eh?" The Artist Formerly Known as Major Man scratched his head of golden curls, and checked the facts for himself. Indeed: the pool of blood wasn't the expected red. It was a pale colorless white. Then, slowly at first, but with increasing haste, the body of the blue Rowdyruff started to move. His two attackers could only watch in amazement, as he got up... his wounds, solid holes through his body, gradually diminishing and healing.

"What's... what's going on?" Princess gulped, and floated back and away. This wasn't possible! It just wasn't!

The blond boy just blinked at them, silently, and attacked.

* * *

**'Opening'**

Overhead, earlier that day, streaks of pink, two shades of green, and light and dark blue crossed the sky. Butch and Boomer led the group for one simple reason: The former wouldn't even associate with anyone but the latter. Disaster had been narrowly averted at the last second by the hotline call from the Mayor, just seconds before Blossom could do something stupid, like getting into a fight with the volatile Rowdyruff Boy.

In a way, Boomer could understand where they both were coming from.

Everything had been thrown upside down after Brick died. The Red Rowdyruff had been more than a leader to his brothers. Indeed, he'd been more than even a brother - he'd been an older brother. He'd been a father. He had been the first thing they had seen when they were reborn. He had taught them, in absence of a teacher or formal education, and he had stood astride their actions like a colossus.

Maybe, his dying should have brought the two remaining ruffs together closer, but instead it had tossed them apart. Butch and Boomer were very different species of animal. That had always been so, but never more than recently. They were brothers, but they hardly talked. They hardly even saw each other anymore. What had passed for a family when they lived with Mojo Jojo was falling apart at the seams, with its foundation... its very mortar, gone.

Then, interrupting his thoughts, Boomer saw it.

The Mayor had called about some sort of weird atmospheric distortion. 'Like a mirror' Blossom had relayed to the rest, before Butch had taken off for the city. It hadn't been visible at first, like looking sideways at a two dimensional object, but as it moved slowly in midair it became more distinct. The Mayor's description had been apt.

It was like a mirror.

"What on earth...?" Buttercup gasped, the first to speak.

"Careful!" Blossom added. "It may act like a magnifying glass or something."

Looking at it from low and to the side, they could see that it was circular. Both faces were like a shimmering reflective metal, which reflected and glared in the early light. It was slowly revolving on an uneven axis, but otherwise doing absolutely nothing.

"I say we blast it!" Buttercup nominated, but held back to see if anyone else was going to do similarly or object. The old Buttercup would simply have gone in without considering the others, but these were different times, and she was hardly the 'old' Buttercup.

When no one spoke up against it, she fired.

As it hit the surface at an angle, the eye beams simply bounced off and up into the air. It was something Buttercup had actually considered might happen, and when she saw that it did, a large part of her was grateful that she'd held back and switched her target to the topside of the object. Her beams passed off into the upper atmosphere harmlessly, instead of hitting the ground and the city. Of course, another part of her was frustrated and annoyed that she hadn't done any damage.

"Physical blows may be more effective." Butch didn't wait - he just charged in, but pulled back at the last second, aiming for the ground. In a single swift pass, he tore up a street sign, and wielding it like a huge knife, threw it at the edge of the floating object. The spinning sign-turned-blade hit on target and passed through harmlessly.

"Damn it!" Butch floated up, facing the slowly moving mirror. In it, he could see his reflection, throwing back at him all he hated and despised. He saw himself: disheveled, unkempt, dirty, angry... pitiful. He hated mirrors. In less than a second, his patience evaporated.

"What the HELL is going on?! What are you?!" He pointed at it, shaking with fury. "I'm ...I'm sick and tired of all this! Show yourself! DO something!"

"Butch..." Bubbles started to say, perhaps in warning.

"NO!" He cut the blonde girl off, and went back to pointing accusingly at the mirror. As it moved, Boomer and Bubbles started to come into view, and he could see their reflections: concerned and a little afraid.

"NO! I HATE this!" Butch roared. "We're being toyed with! Why... why did Brick keep us in the dark?! I... I HATE THIS!! I HATE EVERYTHING!!"

Then, last but not least, Blossom and Buttercup came into view in the mirror, and the world flashed a bright brilliant white. As it faded, so did the mirror. Before their eyes, it started to dissolve. Only... they were still staring at their reflections. Butch twitched, and leaned in closer. Across from him, the other Butch did likewise.

"This is..." He started, but never finished. Twin fists to the face cut him off, and sent him flying back and down into the city.

"What the...?" Blossom blinked, and then felt a blast of heat slash into her side. She grimaced, and saw stars, as something hard and fast plowed into her lower back.

"Watch out!" Buttercup yelled to her remaining sister, and Boomer, as her counterpart lunged for her. The raven Powerpuff managed to grab her double's arms, and twisted with her, struggling for dominance. Nearby, Boomer and his copy took off in similar directions, little more than streaks of pure blue blasting through the air. Bubbles and her double never moved.

They just stared at each other.

"Come on!" Bubbles held up her arms. "Come on!"

It just blinked, and headed off, away from her, towards Boomer, leaving a trail of light blue behind. Bubbles could only watch, stunned, as Boomer was hit from behind, and then by his double from the front, and sent down to earth. He impacted with a crash, plowing into and through a tall glass office building.

"Stop! Why are you doing this?!" Bubbles quickly recovered, and chased after the pseudo-Boomer and Bubbles. The two stared at her, and instantly split up in different directions.

"Come back...!" She looked back and forth, left and right, and ultimately chose right. It was better to keep on her counterpart, rather than get confused. At least she knew the other Bubbles was the false one. But why were they avoiding her and attacking the others?

Really: what on Earth was going on?!

* * *

**'Chorus'**

Hate Male was halfway through her scouting patrol when she saw something and stopped. It wasn't the jewels, however, that caught her eye, nor the normally well dressed patrons that would gift such an establishment, in the commercial heart of the city, with their business. Quite the contrary. The two occupants of the store were paying little heed to their surroundings, and the fine store looked like the proverbial china shop that the bull had stormed through.

More to the point, the two little girls inside were exact duplicates.

Hate Male had been briefed on the Powerpuff Girls, and knew that... one (or both) of the girls was called 'Buttercup.' She had also been told what the girls were capable of, but hearing about something and seeing it in action were two wholly different things. After a brief exchange of blows, that Hate Male could hardly follow, one of them connected with a haymaker.

The shockwave almost knocked the Asian supervillain off her feet.

Closing her eyes, as shards of glass and bits of diamonds filled the air. Just to her left side, the Buttercup that had been struck hit the pavement of the street, bounced, and hit a telephone pole, twisting it into something resembling a pretzel. Thinking quickly, and remembering her orders, Hate Male didn't stick around: she just moved.

FAST.

The world became a comforting blur as she ran, first down the walk, and finally up a wall and to the rooftops. High above, she just caught what looked like red blasts of some sort coming up out of a building and into the air, like tracers from a machine gun. Farther off, she heard an explosion rock a while block of the city.

So much for the plan.

"Kusotare!"

She cursed Burnsday and his plans. Some 'inside intelligence' they'd ended up with! Still, she'd make do. Checking the small watch on her wrist, she popped open a small tracking radar, and took off - following it towards Burnsday and the others. As she ran to them, she made a mental note to react a little more slowly if that baka Major Man got involved.

Why their Morebucks employers had even hired that idiot, she couldn't understand. He was worse than any other ...man ...that Hate Male had the displeasure of meeting. Of course, growing up in Japan had soured her views of all men - she couldn't count the number of times she'd been groped while on the train - but this one was the worst of the lot. By far. If it wasn't one sexist comment or another, or some annoying innuendo, it was the incessant leering and catcalling. Her blood boiled at the thought.

More than normal, actually.

Come to think of it, she'd felt... short tempered towards everyone in general lately. Shaking her head, she banished the thought. It was likely just a consequence of working in a totally different culture, and having to deal with all the stress of the last few days. When she got back to Japan, Hate Male promised herself a nice long soak in an expensive hot spring.

That would be simply... heavenly.

She arrived on the scene just in time to hear the crack of bone, as Major Man's arm twisted unnaturally. The large man roared, loudly, but kept fighting, jabbing rapidly at a blue blur that zipped and coiled around him like a tornado. Circling around, the two power armored members of their little supervillain unit were sniping energy blasts down at the two.

Surprised, Hate Male was slow to shift to a combat mentality.

She didn't act to help, but despite her hesitation, the Artist Formerly Known as Major Man finally managed to catch the blue blur. With speed and strength enhanced by artificial and unstable Chemical X, he caught the speedy Rowdyruff in two massive hands, swatting him like an insect. Staggering back, and breathing heavily, Major Man barely got out of the way as a hail of energy fire rained down, engulfing the battered and stunned ruff.

In the distance, the upper half of a five hundred foot tall skyscraper exploded. A streak of pink and green spun out, and clashed amid the expanding cloud of wreckage. Blossom and the pseudo-Butch smashed together in great conflagrations of blows, before breaking, turning, and colliding once again. Blossom's eyebeams fired, and she floated back, allowing the false Rowdyruff to dodge and weave through the fire as he charged towards her.

When he got close, she breathed out in short bursts, freezing quick patches of air; the moisture collecting into blocks of ice. This sort of thing wasn't possible when she used the power in deep breaths, but in short spurts, it was fairly effective. The green fake ruff cringed and tried to stop, but his inertia carried him into the mini-hailstorm. Trapped and slowed, Blossom then let out a deep breath, and froze him just inches in front of her.

Holding out her hands, dual globes of energy collected.

"You... lose!!" She relaxed her concentration, and the globes fired out like a shotgun, at point-blank range. The pseudo-Butch, frozen and helpless, took the blast full on. Lances of energy cut into him, and he fell back to earth a smoking wreck.

Over a mile away, Buttercup continued to duel with her double.

With another tremendous kick, she sent the other girl up and into a concrete embankment attached to one of Townsville's bridges. It shattered like glass, and the other girl twisted through the air like a broken rag doll. Floating up, Buttercup wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow, and checked to make sure her opponent was still breathing. She'd had to fight full out, without holding back, just to survive... but she didn't want more blood on her hands.

She didn't want to kill.

She couldn't.

Seeing her copy, she silently wondered if she had broken that mandate. The other Buttercup was a bloody mess. The real one could identify what looked like a broken back, and an arm that would never fully recover from its ordeal. What frightened her, however, was that the pseudo-Buttercup wasn't breathing. Then again, thinking about it, Buttercup wasn't sure if her copy had ever actually breathed... They just blinked and fought.

Like... like mindless robots or drones or something.

The lifeless body stirred, and twisted. With a strange grinding sound, the broken back repaired itself. Slowly floating up and facing Buttercup, the double blinked, and charged into the attack. Buttercup could only watch, amazed, as the arm she had seen a broken and bloody mess began to shift and distort - elbow reattaching and bones knitting together before her eyes. White blood trailed from the wound, where once bone had broken skin.

A shockwave shook the entire area.

"Hey, hey, ladies! I know I'm a hot item and all, but there's no need for all this!" Boomer dodged, frantically, as the false copies of Blossom and Bubbles chased, eye beams carving swaths of flame in the city. Catching his momentum, and spinning up and around, he brought his hands forward, and dove down, gaining speed. Running on pure inertia, he turned around and blasted at his pursuers.

The pseudo Bubbles was caught surprised by the move, and fell off to the side from the impact of Boomer's eye beam. She crashed into the side of a building, but the false Blossom was either too quick, or too ready, and dodged the strike. She didn't, however, see Butch come in from the side. With both feet, the Rowdyruff hit like a rocket propelled harpoon. A thunderous crash filled the air, and the Blossom copy sailed off down the street, colliding with a parked SUV at a gas station. The ensuring firestorm shattered windows for a half-mile.

Butch landed next to his exhausted brother.

"Hey..." Boomer slowly smiled. "Thanks for the assist."

"Yeah?" Butch smirked. "What're brothers for?"

Boomer put his hands on his knees, and let out a deep breath. "Damn straight. How you holding up?"

"I'm good. You look pretty spent, bro." Butch slowly put his hands out, and patted Boomer on the shoulder. He wasn't really good at these sorts of things. Boomer, he knew, needed to feel some sort of kinship... that was why he was willing to work with, and even for, those Powerpuff Girls. Butch wasn't as bad as Brick had been, really. Brick's actions, even his displays of emotion, were all calculated. Butch simply wasn't used to them - wasn't comfortable with them.

It wasn't his way.

Did Boomer know that?

Did Boomer know that Butch would walk with him through the flames of hell, if it was asked of him? Did Boomer know how truly sorry his brother was for everything that had happened? Did Boomer understand that Butch loved him? That they were brothers... family... no matter what happened?

Perhaps not.

But he should.

"All that flying... and dodging..." Boomer gritted his teeth and stood. "I'm fine, man. Cool."

"Great. Let's finish the job then..." Butch suddenly saw motion, in the distance. From a pile of rubble, the pseudo-Bubbles emerged, completely unharmed. Further off, the Blossom double sore from the fires, like a phoenix. She was covered in burning fuel, and the flame licked up her shoulders and legs like wings, contrasted and merging with her red hair. She shambled forward at first, but quickly her walk adjusted to normal, as her legs reset and healed.

"No way... no damn way..." Butch wiped his brow. He was starting to feel a little low on energy, too, though not to Boomer's extent. He'd pounded on the fake Boomer and left him broken in a ditch near a train station, and then taken it to the fake Blossom. How was that girl still standing?

"They're... healing..." Boomer growled, angry. "We're not doing any damage!"

"No shit, Lieutenant Columbo." Butch balled his fists. "Can you fight when invisible?"

"No." Boomer shook his head. "I can't move fast when I do it. That kinda makes throwing a good punch tough. You think I'd be talking to you right now, NOT invisible, if it'd be a help here?"

"Che. Typical." Butch paused. "Do it anyway. When they pass you after me, hit 'em from behind."

"That's your plan!?" Boomer gave his brother a oblique look and sighed. "It'll do."

Without another word, Boomer began to fade from view. Butch flew forward, past Bubbles to Blossom, and hit her with a swift uppercut. The still burning Powerpuff's feet left the ground, and Butch circled around, hitting his afterburners. Sure enough, the two fake Powerpuffs gave chase, Blossom looking more akin to a burning comet than any sort of living creature.

When they passed the cloaked Boomer, he opened his mouth.

* * *

"WOAH!!" Princess spun around, holding her ears. She'd recognized the effects of a Sonic Scream anywhere, but this one had been different: it was a rising base rumble, a low tone, instead of a high-pitched one, more like a sonic boom than a scream. It shook her to the bones, and from its direction, she could see a rising cloud of dust.

Putting that aside for the moment, she resumed her chase.

Bubbles was fast, but not fast enough. Catching up to her, Princess snapped forward her palm, and fired. Bubbles tried to block the attack with her arms, but it overwhelmed her, and she fell back, smoking but hardly hurt. Princess forced herself to smile, but the truth was that she wasn't really enjoying herself. Not only was she... somewhat shy of personally committing outright murder, but also Bubbles really didn't annoy her that much. Most of her personal ire was directed at Buttercup and Blossom.

"Look... Princess... we don't have to do this..." Bubbles started.

Princess frowned.

"You're not talking your way out of this!" Princess laughed a piercing annoying guffaw. "You girls are long overdue for a come down!"

"But...!"

"Shut... UP!" Princess lunged, just as Bubbles ducked low. The blonde girl spun into a kick that squarely connected with Princess' torso, but her armor easily took the blow.

"Ha! That's nothing!" Princess backhanded the Powerpuff, and Bubbles flew back, holding her jaw. Princess smirked, and pulled back to deliver a finishing blow, when suddenly Bubbles surged forward, eyes red with frustration and anger. In the blink of an eye, she had Princess by what passed for her collar, and slapped off the visor of her helmet.

"You... IDIOT!" Bubbles raged, and gave her a hard shake. "Don't you have any IDEA what's going on?"

"W... What?" Princess growled, teeth gnashing. "How DARE you speak to me like..."

"Look!" Bubbles pointed down, toward where Hate Male and Major Man fought the psudo-Boomer, while Burnsday orchestrated. They were beating the lone ruff, but the boy kept getting back up. He was currently splotched with his own white blood, but still eagerly fighting.

"Now..." Bubbles said, more calmly. "Does that look natural to you?"

"Hey!" Princess threw her hands up, breaking Bubbles' hold on her. "Get your hands off me! I don't know what you're getting at, but you won't trick me!"

"If you're smart..." Bubbles looked down, somewhat shy, somewhat embarrassed. "You'll leave. Now."

"That a threat?" Princess dismissed it. "It's not a good one."

"It's the truth." Bubbles blinked, and looked up at her. For a millisecond, it looked like her eyes had flashed a dull white, and Princess felt a twinge of fear creep up her spine. "I've seen you die...you and everyone else... you and countless others..."

* * *

**'Choir'**

"Stop! Wait...!" Blossom's words were cut off, as a hand clamped down on her mouth. A blinding blow to the back of the head followed, and for just a second, she blacked out. Only when she hit the ground did any semblance of consciousness return. Floating overhead, she saw the green eyed monster in the body of Butch, slowly descending.

_Relentless._

"Damn it!" Buttercup backhanded her opponent to the ground, for the tenth time. Her muscles were raw and overused - she felt about to collapse. She'd dished out enough damage to beat her double several times over, but the ...thing just kept getting back up. She blinked, and found that it was much harder than normal to open her eyelids. Barely managing to keep upright, she watched as the pseudo-Buttercup recovered, and got back to its feet.

_Tireless._

Boomer hit the ground with a soft thud.

"Ah... I've fallen and I can't get up..." He looked up at the emotionless eyes of the pseudo-Blossom. Slowly, he reached up. "Give a brotha a hand?"

She blinked.

"No?" Boomer set himself, and surged up in the attack. He rolled back and kicked up, hitting her square in the jaw, in a spray of blood and pearly whites. "What a kick in the teeth!"

Landing opposite her, Boomer tried to keep his composure and fight off fatigue. He was gasping like a fish out of water, but the sight of his opponent stumbling back, holding her face, almost made him want to go another fifteen or twenty rounds. Then, slowly, she faced him, and Boomer could see that the vacancies in her mouth were slowly being refilled. In less than a second, her slightly parted lips held back, once again, a perfect set of teeth.

"Oh... weak... dude..." Boomer ran a hand through his sweat slick hair. A half second later he was once again on the ground. This time, he saw only stars.

_Merciless._

"Why... won't... you... stay down...?" Butch shook his head, trying to keep the sweat out of his eyes. He looked down at his arms and hands, still wrapped in the fighting tape he'd put on earlier in the day to cover up the scrapes he'd purposefully given himself smashing his bathroom mirror. It seemed like it had been hours ago. Looking up, he saw the sun - maybe noon, which meant he had been fighting for hours.

In front of him, the pseudo-Bubbles slowly advanced.

_Impossible._

"Don't you see?" Bubbles' eyes screwed shut, as sparkling clear tears trailed down her cheeks. "Don't you understand? It's all happening just like I saw... You should have ran for it... You could have proved me wrong! But it's too late, now! I can see that... "

Princess floated back - floated away.

"You won't live through the day. ... None of us will."

"You're insane! I..." Princess never finished her sentence. Halfway through, one of the Doubles grabbed her legs, and dragged her down, kicking and screaming. Bubbles just watched, and wiped the tears from her face.

"I'm not crazy," She said, softly: too softly for anyone save herself to hear. "I'm a good girl."


	4. Gauntlet: Diaspora part 4

Insert worthless not legally binding in court disclaimer stuff here. Like a good communist, I own nothing.

* * *

**WARNING:  
The following pages contain some fairly graphic violence. O.O**

"Gauntlet: Diaspora"  
Part 4

* * *

**'Preview'**

June 15

"They're coming. We... we've done all we can. All any reasonable people can."

"You're condemning..." She made a move, as if to reach for the door controls.

He intercepted her. "I'm doing what I can."

"Let go of my arm, John. I'm not going to ask you again."

"You're not going out there. You're not turning yourself into a martyr!" His eyes narrowed. "You think you can..."

"Damn you, John." She pushed away from him, and he let go of her arm. "You don't need to lecture me."

"No. No I don't." He looked down at his clenched fists. "This... this is all my fault... But... I couldn't leave you behind with all the rest, Sarah. I couldn't. You're too important to me."

Miss Bellum couldn't reply; couldn't think of anything to say. Her mind rolled back and forth, and her emotions were a rollarcoaster of extremes. She hated the man that stood in front of her. His hubris, and that of those like him, had destroyed the world - leveled everything she had ever held dear. Yet, he was so... broken in spirit, so juxtaposed with the kind loving man she had known for over a year.

The silence of the moment was deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the generator that kept the lights on, and the rest of the world out. After all that Professor Utonium had been through in the last few hours, in the last two months, how could she damn him? He was alone. He had always been alone.

So had she.

"Maybe..." She started, softly, and he looked up, his eyes meeting her's. "Maybe we're both damned. John."

A small smile tugged at the side of his mouth.

"I want to know everything this time." With a jerk, Miss Bellum brought him close, eye to eye. "From the beginning. Or so help me, Utonium...!"

She never finished her sentence.

...

From the shadows of a dark room, Bubbles silently watched, with a mixture of curiosity and concern.Adults were strange creatures, with strange ways. She had never even imagined that the Professor could kiss someone goodnight like that. In her arms, something small and soft chuckled at the display.

"What is it, Octi?" She asked, quietly. Wordlessly, she got an answer from the octopus doll. "No, I don't suppose Blossom would approve of us watching, would she?"

Silence.

Silence.

Outside the room, outside the house that was their shelter and their prison, the world burned.

Silence.

* * *

**'Sonata'**

June 14

Boomer.

Blossom.

Buttercup.

Butch.

Their bodies hit the ground limply, one next to another, all in a rough circle. Around them, their copies stood, motionless, mute, and waiting. Nearby, the newly arrived supervillain team, mercenaries all, held to consciousness by a thread. Defeated and incapacitated, they were simply thrown aside like so much garbage.

The streets and buildings were deathly devoid of noise - the population of the entire area had wisely fled when the fighting began, hours ago. Sharp winds blew down from between massive buildings, their howl and the occasional screech of car alarms the only music to a listener's ears.

Overhead, alone, Bubbles watched and waited.

Her double looked over the scene as well, keeping a comfortable distance from the true blonde Powerpuff. Finally, she made a tiny, almost invisible, motion to her mute compatriots. The pseudo-Blossom went first, and leaned over the original. One hand out, she touched the girl's forehead. An electric jolt seemed to shoot through the leader of the Powerpuff Girls, and then there was nothing.

The pseudo-Blossom stepped back.

Boomer was next. His copy reached down, with his right hand, and rested it on the other boy's brow. Boomer's eyes shot open, and he made a strangled gasp, before his entire body relaxed completely. His eyes remained open - unblinking, looking forever upwards to the impotent heavens, and to the wild skies he had so enjoyed reveling in.

The pseudo-Boomer stepped away.

Groaning, Butch blinked, and saw his counterpart standing over him, waiting for his turn. Snorting, Butch tasted blood, and almost as an afterthought, he looked to his side, and saw the others. Buttercup: she was still unconscious, and looked like she had swam a dozen laps in a pool full of piranha. Then, he focused on Blossom and Boomer. They weren't breathing.

"No... Boomer... Blossom..." He reached out, but grimaced as a foot slammed onto his chest, pinning him to the ground. He looked up into the emotionless eyes of the other Butch.

Out of nowhere, he saw the other Buttercup - in perfect condition - reach over to the one he knew. She rested her palm on the green Powerpuff's temple, and in that instant, Buttercup woke up. Her neck craned from the shock of the contact, looking away from her mindless killer... to him. His eyes met hers, and an entirely different sort of contact was made. Butch could only watch as the sparkling green life in her eyes faded.

And died.

Blinking back tears, he saw Blossom again. They had never gotten along, but... but... to see her like this, so spiritless, so beaten, sent a shot of pain into his chest. Just like Brick. He had given his life for her, and for what? To have her killed just days later? He saw Boomer, and the tears truly began to flow. His brother... his family... he had nothing now. What kind of brother was he that could do nothing to save his own kin? His own kith? Again, he looked into Buttercup's eyes.

"Greeneyes."

He wasn't sure whether he'd said the word, or just thought it. It didn't matter. He didn't need to see anything except her eyes to know she was dead. To know that all she was, all he had... had... so relished in her... was gone. Gone. Everything was gone.

Everything was dead.

He was dead.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a hand reaching down, slowly, purposefully. It wanted to take his life. It wanted to end what its companions had begun when they killed all he loved, all he had ever come to value. Quite simply, it wanted Butch to die.

He caught the hand by the wrist.

His double was too late. Far too late. Deep inside, Butch was already dead and buried. Replaced by something else entirely. Something primal, something older - something burning with hate and living for destruction. He didn't so much want to live, no:

"I want..." The hand's forward momentum was checked. "You..." And pushed back. "TO DIE!!"

With a feral roar, Butch threw back his assailant. The pseudo-Butch was thrown back, and as he got to his feet, Butch pulled his grip down and twisted, snapping his double's right arm as the wrist and elbow. Pulling him forward, Butch buried his knee in the copy's gut, stepped forward, snapping the arm at the shoulder, and threw the broken half of a body into a parked car.

It exploded in a shower of flame.

Bits of debris and a drizzle of ash floated to the ground.

"You're all dead." Butch's arms shook with cold fury. "You're all walking corpses!!"

With just a glance, the doubles of Boomer and Blossom shot forward, like bullets. Butch avoided the former, but got hit by the latter square in the chest. Gritting his teeth, and hardening his body, he braced himself for the inevitable impact. When it came, through one building, and clear into another, the wall of steel and glass gave, crumpling and deforming.

Butch hit the ground on both feet.

Only to be hit from behind by the false Bubbles, at nearly top speed. He twisted from the blow, and let his inertia carry him off her impaling fists. He dropped off to the side, but managed enough finesse to reach up and grab one of her ankles. With an unintelligible war cry, he forced his direction downward, assisted by gravity. The pseudo-Bubbles struggled in his grip, and kicked him in the back of the head.

Butch tasted blood.

But when he slammed the fake Bubbles down onto the sidewalk, his opponent was little more than but. The very ground seemed to liquefy from the point of impact; flow like thick black water, a millisecond before hardening and shattering into a billion pieces. Butch floated backwards, and watched as the entire area, a broken crater some forty or fifty feet across, fell apart and down into some old subway tunnel, thirty or more feet below.

Two feet greeted him when he started to turn around.

Only to be followed up, as he careened through the air from the blow, with an earth shattering haymaker to the jaw. He saw a hint of dark blue, and then pink, as pseudo-Boomer and Blossom darted around him. Eye beams burned into his back, and blows rained down on him at a tempo no human eye could follow.

The green Rowdyruff felt a tooth chip off as a particularly fierce blow came in the form of a flying uppercut. Spitting out a wad of blood and saliva, Butch finally caught one of them coming in at top speed to finish him off. Calculating his next move with ruthless and deliberately vicious forethought, at the last second he finally pounced. Ducking between the two attacking fists, he grabbed onto the pseudo-Blossom's head, felt his fingers run through her silken hair, and latch below the side of her temples, where her jaw met her skull.

Pushing up and squeezing down, he unlocked the joints, and snapped the head back with a deafening crack. If one listened, they would have then heard the sound of bone on bone, and the tortured pop of her neck being broken beyond repair. Not entirely finished, he slammed the body into not just one building, but another, and another, and another.

"I'll kill every one of you!" He let go of the smashed remains of her hair; watched the red mass wave in the breeze between buildings. With a fist empowered by rage, glowing green with energy, he emptied it all into her still falling form. The pseudo-Blossom was hit, full force, blowing a hole straight through the tower, through twenty floors at an angle, out the other end, and into the ground, carving a long furrow in the street.

"Where are you?" Butch looked around for the thing that wore the semblance of his brother. "SHOW YOURSELF!!"

Again, Butch was hit from behind.

The pseudo-Boomer's blows came and went, as he hit quickly only to speed away. Butch would pursue, only to be cut off by the fake Buttercup, who had finally entered the fight. The three super powered beings sparred and warred through the twisted and creaking structure of the glass and steel tower, while up above, Bubbles watched as the quickly recovering Butch double gained in altitude.

Finally, the false boy's eyes widened, and flared with power.

Crimson flame lanced from his emotionless azure eyes, and into the building. It was desiccated almost effortlessly, and as the pieces started to rain down to the earth, the wind began to pick up. In a second, a tornado, birthed from inside, tore the remains of the building, little more than a tattered skeleton, into less than rubble. Still, Bubbles watched, as chunks of flaming metal and glass spread out over the city, carried by the wayward gale force winds.

At its heart, Butch roared.

And the earth shook.

Three of them struck at once, and as one. The fake Buttercup came in first, pounding away at his kidneys, while the wounded pseudo-Butch blazed away with his eye beams. Butch writhed, in frustration, pain and rage, even as Boomer swooped in, caving in the green Rowdyruff's face with a flying kick. But the blow wasn't enough: the Buttercup impostor continued to pound away at him even as he flew through the air, ultimately crashing into Townsville Central Park.

Butch blinked.

He wasn't dead yet.

He wouldn't die... couldn't die... not before them. Through a haze of pain and blows, he saw the face of the girl that he felt closest to, and most damned because of. It was exactly her, down to the smallest detail. Save the eyes. There was no spark in them - no trace of Buttercup.

It was just a doll in her image.

"I'll kill you." He whispered, and caught one of the fists. His body started to shake, his heart pound blood, and his mind scream the call for vengeance anew. In his hand, her fist cracked and disappeared in a spray of white blood.

"I'll kill you!!" He drew her forward, and into a head butt. Her head snapped back from the blow, and Butch let go of her mangled hand. "I'LL KILL YOU!" Muscles tearing, he struck, again and again. He didn't want to see her face! Not like that! "**I'LL KILL YOU!!**"

The pseudo-Buttercup staggered back, her face a broken semblance of its former self. Still, from what was left of her eyes, red fire poured forth freely, slamming and cutting into the brunette Rowdyruff. Butch's feet cut twin ditches in the ground as he resisted the energy. He was holding his own, until two and then four beams converged on his upper body. All around him, grass combusted in proximity to the heat, going up in a great spreading wildfire. Until, eventually, there seemed nothing more to existence than a world of flame and pain.

Like dipping into an endless well, Butch's rage escaped his mouth. The fires died, as the ground simply became swept away. Back, ever more, the beams pushed him, until Butch felt something against his back: a telephone pole. It instantly caught fire, and then snapped in half. Burning wires, sparking and hissing, fell from above, but provided just enough distraction for Butch to escape the only way he could.

Down.

A heartbeat later, he tore up out of the ground, and charged the thickest gathering of targets. Again, the beams came crashing down, but they weren't enough. Lapping heat and energy hit the Rowdyruff, cut into his shoulders and chest, but for all their damage and pain, these things meant nothing to Butch now. His momentum carried him ever forward, and into the fake Boomer.

"Die." Butch's flattened palm struck, like a coiled cobra, directly into the false Boomer's mouth. Forming a fist, he locked it there, and with a titanic display of strength, spun and struck out at the nearest enemy. Using the Boomer double like a boxing glove, he crashed him into the fake Butch with a loud splatter and crack. The other Butch floated back, stunned, trying to wipe the white blood and broken tissue off his face.

"Die." Butch then turned to the pseudo-Buttercup, and buried his Boomer-fist into her stomach. When she leaned forward from the blow, he savagely backhanded her down to the earth. Now, alone in the air, a smoking charred mess of a Rowdyruff, his arms and chest blackened by heat, Butch looked down at his right hand.

With a sharp crack and a wet splatter, he tore his fist loose.

Landing near where the pseudo-Buttercup had fallen, Butch's eyes narrowed to deadly slits. Reaching down, he picked her up, and wrapped his arm around her throat. These things that took the form and power of those he had loved didn't breathe, so Butch didn't bother even trying to choke the creature in his deadly grip. With pure and simple relentless, merciless strength, he hooked one leg around her two, holding them in place, and leaned all the way back. The pseudo-Buttercup's entire body stretched, and her spine split and broke in a dozen places at once.

"Die!" His arm tightened even more around her throat, to the point where he could feel what was left of the bones there breaking the surface. With all his strength, with all his anger, with every fiber of his being, he snapped his arm down, and up, popping her head off like the bud of a flower. The creature that looked so much like his favorite Powerpuff fell to the ground, and Butch screamed to the heavens.

"DIE!! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!! DO YOU HEAR ME!?"

Up above, the still wounded pseudo-Butch almost seemed to pause in abject terror, but then blinked, and attacked. Butch received him with something akin to perverse joy, and the two danced. Across the length of the City Park, they warred - shockwaves from their blows shook the ground, and knocked over anything standing. Within seconds, no tree, no swing set, hardly even a blade of grass, still stood in Townsville Central Park.

Finally, something fast and green fell to the ground, broken and bloody. Butch stood over his double, breathing heavily, dried blood, red and white, covering him like a second skin. He had several broken ribs, a good deal of internal bleeding, burns over most of his body, and his left eye was swollen to the point where he could hardly see in front of him. Distantly, he knew all this, and didn't care.

"Die, you bastard. Die!" With a sneer, he placed his right foot on the other Butch's collarbone, and pressed down. He didn't stop, didn't relent, until the chest was little more than a broken birdcage, and he had nearly hit ground. Wiping a long thread of blood from his lower lip, he looked up into the clear blue sky and felt the rage drift away with the wind.

Only to be replaced by resignation.

"Boomer... Blossom... Buttercup..." He blinked, the tears stinging his eyes. "Greeneyes..." He almost choked at the word. "For you... An honor guard... an honor guard..."

He fell to his knees, but strangely, didn't feel anything anymore.

Just a certain... numbness.

Feeling a little dizzy and light headed, he blinked, and saw something light blue in front of him. His arms felt unbearably heavy, so he had to settle for blinking a few times - trying to clear his vision. Yes: he could see the blonde hair. It was her. She had survived.

"Bubbles..." Butch coughed, and reached out for her. "I'm sorry I couldn't... they're all... all..." Butch tasted bile, and saw that Bubbles wasn't moving. "Bubbles... what...?"

She blinked, and pushed him, hard.

He ended up on his back.

Time seemed distorted, and after closing his eyes for what seemed like only a moment, he saw a green and white blur over him. His mind denied it. His heart raged against it. No. No! NO!!

"No..." Butch reached up, weakly, at the green double he had thought dead. "No... I'll kill you..."

The figure stood, mutely, mocking him.

"I'll kill you..."

Butch's arm felt so heavy. So damn heavy.

"I'll kill you...!"

Still, he reached up.

"I'll KILL you!"

And then a cold hand touched his forehead, and everything became black.

* * *

**'Finale'**

The pseudo-Butch straightened his back, and looked at his blonde companion. He had hardly even gotten a moment to himself, when, suddenly, something fast landed next to him and grabbed onto his head. Bubbles leaned in close to his ear, and screamed. He tensed, made as if to escape, or raise a defense, but by that time it was already too late. His injuries, not fully regenerated, left him exposed and vulnerable. Bubbles' mouth went from wide to narrow, focusing the attack as her yell became even higher in tone.

The impostor Rowdyruff fell out of Bubbles' hands.

His brain nearly liquefied.

Bubbles' scream trailed off, and she pivoted slightly, until she was face to face with her double. The other Bubbles seemed stunned by the turn of events. She inclined her head, eyes questioning. Her mouth never moved or opened, but the pseudo-Bubbles' alien inhuman voice was heard clearly by the Powerpuff Girl.

"What are you doing?" It asked, simply.

Bubbles didn't reply at first. Octi had warned her not to talk to the Enemy. She knew what she had to do. She had known, since last night, or to be more accurate, she had very close to known. Even now, with him not around, she heard Octi's voice, barely a whisper this far away, urging her to strike. To finish this One.

"I see now." The pseudo-Bubbles narrowed her blank blue eyes. "You and I are not alike. You are not alone."

Like lightning, Bubbles tackled her quarry, and forced her to the ground. The other Bubbles was still recovering from Butch's attacks, and while she appeared nearly regenerated, her state was more than a little less than perfect. Bubbles took advantage of the fact that she was fresh and completely unhurt. She pressed her palm to the fake's forehead, and concentrated.

The other Bubbles' struggled: mind and body.

Somewhere immaterial, Octi attacked, and tangled the pestilence in his tentacles. The other Bubbles' mind heaved against the strands binding her, and in that weakness, Bubbles saw victory. The Doubles were all connected, spiritually, to their 'real' counterparts, which was why they were, at first, seemingly immortal. They could not die, so long as their counterparts lived; they would just regenerate and return to fight again. When the others had fallen in battle, weakened and overexerted, the fakes had literally sucked the souls out of their counterparts, completing the circle.

It had also left them vulnerable and able to be killed.

Eventually leaving only this one.

The final fragment of the Living Core would be within this last one, appropriately enough. Yet, this pseudo-Bubbles would not die. She was connected, still, to her living counterpart. Luckily, Otci had fortified her for this moment. Hand still on the other Bubbles' brow, Bubbles focused like she had never focused before.

"No!" The inhuman creature cried, as it felt the spiritual tug of war shift against it. "No! ... Not the Abyss! Not Oblivion!"

"Yes." Bubbles pressed her advantage.

"You... don't understand...! This... this world will burn before the dreamer dies! You don't know...!" The pseudo-Bubbles shook violently for all of a second, and then became deathly still, and said no more. Bubbles broke the contact between them, and jumped back just as the Powerpuff mimic exploded in a great pillar of red, orange and black gas. All around the city, similar plumes sprouted and rose high into the air, five in all, crowning the city like royalty.

And blanketing it in cleansing fire.

The tumult was over as quickly and abruptly as it had occurred.

Surveying all that around her, Bubbles slowly shook her head. It had all come to pass just as she had seen in her dreams. Still, something within her insisted that this wasn't the end. Something within her thought back to better times, and looked forward with hope. Yes: hope. She hadn't felt that in what seemed like an eternity.

"d... don't move..."

Bubbles turned slightly, and saw a man, and a face, obscured by a cracked red visor. She didn't remember his name, but she did remember him from before. Apparently he had not only survived the fight he'd gotten caught up in, but he was still up and about. One arm hanging limp by his side, Burnsday still held a rather large weapon in his other arm fairly steadily. He had it trained directly on her.

A small tube traced a line up his neck and into the base of his jaw.

It pulsed with Chemical X.

Bubbles tensed to move out of the way.

"I said don't move!" Burnsday growled, somewhat weakly. Still, his aim shifted appropriately, following her smallest motion. The chipped and damaged armor he wore was barely holding together, and occasionally sparking in demonstration of that fact.

Bubbles only wondered one thing.

"Why?"

Burnsday's eyes almost shut, but he didn't blink. "Nothing... personal." He paused. "A Contract."

"A contract?"

"A deal. You... your buddies..." Burnsday slowly smiled. "And the brat. 'Course..." He coughed. "I'd do that one for free."

"Princess?" Bubbles' eyes darted back and forth, looking for something to distract him with. "I thought she had hired you guys..."

"You never heard of Downsizing? Morebucks money. Ain't none of it Princess's." His smile faded. "With you two gone, I'll retire... with all the X and all the money I'll ever need..."

"And the other two?"

"Those idiots?" Burnsday seemed to recover a bit. Still, the thought of the Artist Formerly Known as Major Man and the aptly named Hate Male wasn't an endearing one. "Don't make me laugh! Right now I couldn't care less what happens to them."

"But... I saved you..." Bubbles held out her hands. "Remember? From Brick?"

"So?"

"You owe us!"

Burnsday paused at that, giving it a bit of thought. Finally he spoke. "I don't think so. You three just stood there and watched. That little prick damn near killed me... again..."

Bubbles fumed.

"Still... he's done me some good, in the long run."

Bubbles curiosity perked up at that. "What?"

Burnsday let out a short laugh. "Yeah... I've got it figured out, ya see. The Prof - your old man - he knows it all... The world's gonna go to hell, and I'm gonna be well armed when it does. Carve out a little piece of land for myself... maybe Australia..."

"I don't understand..."

"Yer not supposed to." Burnsday's trigger finger got ready to depress as the weapon hummed and cycled up with power. Then, suddenly, his back arched, his arms splayed wide, and the gun fired off to the side: missing completely. Slowly, unsteadily, he turned around, his back smoking from the energy that had buffered him from behind.

"Burnsday." Princess raised one hand to his chest. "You're fired."

"Wh...!"

Princess' hand became a mini-maelstrom, and in a second, blasted clear through the mercenary. His eyes twitched, lost focus, and he fell, with a low groan. Floating warily to the blasted and charred ground, Princess winced and clutched her side. Bubbles hesitated only a split second, before floating over to her side to help hold her up. Supporting the other girl, Bubbles didn't really know what to say. Still, she tried.

"Thank you... Princess." Bubbles looked down at Princess' side. There was a lot of blood, but she looked like she'd live. About the same time, Bubbles heard muffled sobs, and saw a trail of tears running down Princess' cheeks.

"Does... are you hurt bad?" Bubbles pressed.

"Get away from me..." Princess said, weakly. "Everyone hates me. I'm a screw up... a failure... Downsizing... oh god!" She started to shake from the sobs. "Leave me alone... just leave me alone... I hate you... I hate everyone..."

"Princess..."

"Don't call me that!" Princess shook Bubbles off her, and stumbled back a few feet before catching herself. Bubbles made as if to help her again, but before she could, Princess took off. In seconds, she disappeared into the smoke and haze.

Bubbles never saw Princess Morebucks again.

* * *

**'Encore'**

June 18

Bubbles walked down the dark hall without fear or hesitation.

She had grown to fear things far worse than the dark.

And she had her Octi. With him in her arms, she was never alone, never afraid. All she needed was one thing, and she would be strong enough to bear any burden. Tugging a bit at her nightie, she shifted her grip on Octi, and stopped at the first of several faintly glowing tubes that ran up from the floor into the ceiling. Her hand passed gently over the cool metal at its base.

"Good night Boomer." She smiled, wistfully. "Sweet dreams."

(To be continued in 'Gauntlet: Redemption')

* * *

Whew! We're nearing the end, folks!  
And yes, I know this was a dark, violent and depressing chapter... but look at the title for the next one, and look at the title for this one! Diaspora, then Redemption! I can tell you that it won't get any darker. Plus, from here on, the truth starts to be revealed (at last)!  
As always, any CnC would be like unto a godsend.


End file.
